AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Faro kicks his feet onto the table in front of the lawn chair he’s sitting on. "Quit beating around the bush. Get to the point."
My jaw tumbles to my feet. "I’m not aLittle Daddy."
Giosuè pushes out a sigh. "We heardeverythingthat happened. From Bentley."
"He said that Jericho comforted you because it was obvious you wanted to play with him and Bentley," Faro explains, plain as day. "He figured you had a Little side you hadn’t explored before—or at least not fully."
My head spins faster than a Category Five tornado. I’m in shock that my secret is already out, a secret I didn’t even know I harbored until yesterday.
I bite back a growl as I take a sip of limoncello. "Come on, guys. Let me at least be the one to tell you."
Giosuè shrugs. "I don't see the big deal. Okay, you like playtime, too—and?"
"You can still play and be Jericho’s Daddy." Faro nods. "He won’t think any less of you. In fact, he’ll probably love it—you get more involved in playtime than Santino or Marcello. That’s what sets you apart from them. Every boy in a four-way relationship needs a sweet, sensitive Daddy who will be his playmate. IfIwere with multiple Daddies, that’s what I'd want."
I shake my head in amusement as I sip my limoncello and stare out at Nonna’s backyard.
Unconditional acceptance is one of those things that you don't expect your family to show you. Brothers beat each other up all the time, physically and emotionally. Secrets are never safe, and when one family member confesses something, word spreads faster than a wildfire. You anticipate a beatdown—a standup routine where everyone laughs at you instead of at your jokes.
Today, well—Faro and Giosuè’s reactions mollify my concerns.Of coursemy family would be supportive. Why wouldn’t they? They’re all Daddies and Littles, and they’ve been involved in the kink community since forever.
Jako settles into the seat beside Faro. "Oh, are we chatting about Lazaro being a Little Daddy?"
Faro palms his forehead. "Lazaro’s sensitive about that. He shouldn’t know I told you."
I groan as I regard Jako with a culpable look. "Yes, that’s what we’re discussing. I’m coming to terms with it—the feeling that I’m a freak."
Giosuè frowns. "Don't call yourself a freak. There’s nothing wrong with being a Daddy with a Little side."
"I’ve definitely heard of that," Jako says, nodding. "It’s quite common in French kink communities—the rules aren’t as rigid as in American relationships. Everyone is fluid. Everyone plays with each other regardless of gender, no one’s needs stay fixed, and the only constant is change."
"A man can never step in the same river twice," a sage voice muses.
We turn to see Xavier approaching us.
"Daddy!" Giosuè blushes as he takes Xavier’s hand. "Welcome to the party."
Xavier settles into the seat beside Giosuè. "Heraclitus said that in 800 BCE. He was a pre-Socratic philosopher who knew more about the mysteries of life—and love—than we do today."
Faro scratches his forehead. "Pre-what?"
"Socratic," Xavier says with a laugh. "That means before Plato and Socrates. The pre-Socratic view of life is more ethereal than what came later—less rigid, less strict or defined. The Platonic notion of perfect forms had yet to come into existence. Heraclitus is very difficult to parse because at first it seems as if he’s speaking gibberish—you have to think long and hard about his true meaning."
I sip my drink. "Okay, nerd."
Giosuè snickers. "My brother called you a nerd, Daddy. What are you going to do about that?"
Faro glares at both of us. "I want to learn about the river thing."
"What river thing?" Giosuè asks.
"The one where a man can’t step in the same river twice," Faro says.
Xavier leans forward. "It has multiple meanings. Say you're going to a restaurant—you enjoy the chicken sandwich. You think it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. But guess what? You head back the next time, and it’s mediocre. In fact, every time you try to regain that initial feeling you had when you ate it, you can’t. It escapes you—like the impression you get when gazing at a Monet painting. It’s there, but it’s also not there—or if it was really there, it’s gone by the time you think you see it again, fading into the very canvas on which Monet worked his magic."
Faro’s eyes bulge. "You’re way too smart for me."
"I love chicken sandwiches," Giosuè drawls. "I'd never get sick of going to a restaurant I liked."
